Where to Run
by FolkFanatic
Summary: Lucifer, Lilith, and Ruby used him. Dean can't trust him. Bobby hates him. Hunted by demons to be brought to Lucifer as a vessel and hunted by his own kin - Sam has nobody to turn to.
1. Prologue

Where to Run

Rated: M (18+)

Pairings: none

Warnings: Violence, angst, blood, language

Summary: Lucifer, Lilith, and Ruby used him. Dean can't trust him. Bobby hates him. Hunted by demons to be brought to Lucifer as a vessel and hunted by his own kin - Sam has nobody to turn to.

**Notes**:

I'll try to keep people in character, but can't guarantee it.

Set mid episode one of season five.

Alternative timeline, sort of, and altered events.

Disclaimer: i don't own the characters or any recognizable events. Not making any money off of this, it's purely for entertainment purposes only. And to get the ideas out of my mind so i have room for others. ^_^

_**Prologue**_

"When this is over, if we somehow manage to pull this off, then lose my number." Sam could hear Bobby's words echoing in his head like a sledgehammer. But he hadn't argued with the older hunter, instead just hung his head and walked away.

Accepting his fate and accepting that he'd screwed up enough to make the only other father figure in his life hate him.

Dean had followed him out and stopped him before he could fall into the Impala. "I'm sorry." Sam whispered before Dean could say anything.

"I know you are Sam." Sam glanced up and saw the pain and sadness in Dean's eyes. Dean never called him 'Sam', not unless something serious was up. Sam felt his chest clench in foreboding.

"Dean, is there something you want to say to me?" He asked after a few minutes pause. He didn't want to know, he didn't. He was scared. Dean had been so quiet. So tense. Like he was hiding something, or holding something back. Sam had a good guess as to what it was.

"I tried Sammy. I mean I really tried." Dean finally said. "But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right: because it's not. And it's never going to be." Sam flinched, expecting it but still hurt. "You chose a demon over your own brother. And look what happened."

"I would give anything to take it all back." Sam said softly.

"I know you would. Look I know how sorry you are, I do. But man, you where the one I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even… I'm just." Dean paused and Sam hung his head. "I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here you know?"

"What can I do?"

"Honestly? Nothing. I just don't, I don't think we can ever be what we where. You know? I just don't think I can trust you." Sam felt his shoulders slump. He'd screwed up, big time. He knew it. When he looked up again Dean had his back turned to him. "You should go. I won't… I won't hunt you, or do anything to you. But I can't be with you."

Right now or ever, Sam wanted to ask. But he couldn't make the words come out. Instead he watched as Dean pulled his pack from the Impala and gently set it down on the ground.

"Don't call me." And then Dean was gone. And Sam was alone. With a soft sigh he bent down to pick up his pack. Then he started walking.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

Where to Run

**Chapter One**

Sam wandered around in a daze, losing track of how long or how far he walked and how many times he hitched in the bed of a pickup truck. All he knew was that the sun rose and fell. He didn't run into any demons, or any hunters, and for that he was grateful.

It gave him time to think: about himself, his failures, the demon blood running through his veins, and what he was going to do now. Would he continue hunting? Or should he give up and just go away somewhere to kill himself? Eventually the howling anger won out and he decided that if he was going to loose everything then he could at least repay the favor and bring his own version of hell to any demon, ghost, or monster he came across.

The first thing on the agenda was to figure out a way to tally up his failures, not just so that he would remember them but also to help him learn from the mistakes and move on. He ended up carving instances of failure into his arms. Permanent reminders so he wouldn't repeat the mistakes again.

He carved one for Jess. He carved one for his dad. He carved two for Dean – one for failing as a brother and one for failing as a hunter. And he carved one for Bobby.

Once he was done with his tallies he decided it was time to move on. It was time to get back to work – back to hunting. Which brought up the next issue: should he use the powers given to him by Azazel? The powers Dean had warned him to not use? The ones that he used to break open the last seal?

Because, realistically, he couldn't just ignore them and hoped they went away. He tried that approach with Dean but the less he used them the weaker he got, and the more he couldn't control what happened when they flared up. Case in point the last hunt he and Dean went on together nearly had Sam on his knees because the demon knew his weakness when faced with blood and the temptation to use those powers. The demon managed to provoke him, last minute, and Sam lashed out.

Unfortunately he forgot that Dean was in the same room along with a 'hostage.' The blast of power killed the demon, and it's vessel, and injured Dean and the hostage. The hostage didn't make it even after they got her to the hospital.

In remembrance, he added a mark to his arm. Eventually he decided that he would use those powers, but he would first work on controlling them. So for two weeks he holed himself up in an old cabin he'd found and worked on nothing but his telekinetic powers and his, admittedly, short temper.

His first hunt since the split, he decided he would do something small. A ghost, or a poltergeist. When he felt ready, he made his way to a small town and into the local library. Where he researched on the computer until he came across a potential hunt: there was an article in a newspaper, from a town not an hours walk from where he was.

A young couple ended up hospitalized and claimed that something in the house did it.

He made his way to the town and did some digging – apparently every person to ever live in the house left within one year of moving in. The neighbors, friendly and eager to help the couple, admitted to hearing strange sounds and seeing odd light. When nobody was home.

Thankfully the couple were still in the hospital so Sam was able to climb in an open back window without detection. His hand held EMF meter detected something almost immediately and he went to work searching the house. He was in luck – in the basement he found the deed to the house, complete with the original owners name.

A trip to the local cemetery led to a simple salt and burn job. The ghost didn't even show up. Sam stuck around for a few days but nothing else happened, even when the home owners returned.

So he moved on to the next hunt.

Time passed – he hunted down ghosts and poltergeists for a while, breaking in between hunts to work on his telekinetic abilities until he felt confident in them. Then he moved on to hunting demons again.

On the first hunt he stumbled across he found that the exorcising powers he had been counting on wouldn't work. The demon had paused, laughed, and then proceeded to toss him around like a rag-doll. Until Sam felt something snap and he let the rage wash over him. The demon was exorcised, but the human vessel was dead.

He carved the failure into his arm and moved on.

Eventually, he got another chance to prove himself. And another. And another. Demon after demon was exorcised at his hand. As he practiced, the better he became at it. Eventually he was able to banish and torture demons without hurting the vessels.

He earned money for food and supplies by singing – yes, singing – at local bars for entertainment, or helped patch up cars for local mechanics. And when he wasn't singing/working or hunting, he was patching _himself_ up.

Hunting alone, with nothing but a blade, was dangerous he found. He wasn't without injury, without pain. In fact he couldn't remember a time when he DIDN'T hurt now. He learned to block it, just like he learned how to control the powers he had been born with.

There was one drawback, though. He was susceptible to devil's traps and he was sensitive to salt and holy water. After getting his hands on some obscure books he found the info he needed: Azazel's blood, Ruby's blood, and using his powers willingly for any reason shifted his biological chemistry.

Azazel had getten his way: Sam was now on his way to actually becoming a half demon. And if things where to be completed he would be in his true form. Which meant he would be powerful.

He added a large mark to his arm and ended up passed out from blood loss, until the strange powers kicked in and healed him enough for him to stitch himself together.

"Things are heating up." He muttered to himself as he settled backstage and waited for the club manager to motion him out. He was currently in Oklahoma, drifting and looking for the next battle – current job of choice: singing entertainment at a small town club.

Demons where in town as of two days ago, that much he knew. Now it was just a waiting game as he made some money and maybe checked the area out after work. He drifted out to the small stage on his cue, taking over for one of the other many singing drifters that also made money by hitting these clubs.

"_Carry on my wayward son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry no more"_

He rolled his eyes a bit at the song. It was symbolic, in a way.

"_Once I rose above the noise and confusion_

_Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion_

_I was soaring ever higher_

_But I flew too high"_

A girl in the audience smiled at him and he smiled back as he sang. He briefly wished that songs reflected real life, then maybe he and Dean could have… but no. It wasn't worth it to get stuck in hopes and dreams.

"_Masquerading as a man with a reason_

_My charade is the event of the season_

_And if I claim to be a wise man but_

_It surely means that I don't know"_

"_On a stormy sea of moving emotion_

_Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean_

_I set a course for winds of fortune_

_But I hear the voices say"_

Dreams where for sleeping. He wasn't sleeping much at all these days.

"_Carry on my wayward son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry no more, no"_

"_Carry on, you will always remember_

_Carry on, nothing equals the splendor_

_Now your life's no longer empty_

_Surely heaven waits for you"_

Heaven, what a joke. As if there where such a place, and as if most people would get there.

"_Carry on my wayward son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry_

_Don't you cry no more, no more"_

He sang well into the night, only relieved when the club closed at three a.m.. He accepted his payment with a nod of thanks and disappeared into a nearby alley to divvy it up and hide it away in different pockets.

Then he headed out to look around the area for signs of the demons he was tracking. By five he was done – all signs pointed that they where already gone: exorcised by another hunter or just moved on. It was a disappointment, but Sam took it in stride.

It was when he was about to leave that he was jumped. Three men, bulkier than him but no taller. He barely had time to open his mouth before a hand covered it, and he fought as they wrestled him to the ground. It was no use – the hand had a drugged cloth and he felt himself loosing consciousness.

TBC

I don't own the song, BTW. Hopefully won't remove the chap. If it does, i'll re-upload without full lyrics. And for the record, i have the whole story written up. I'll try to upload a new chapter every couple of days or so.


	3. Chapter 2

Where to Run

**Chapter Two**

When he woke up again he was face down on a cement floor. His wrists where tied together in front of him, and there where cufs on his ankles. Crude ruins where etched on them and he realized that these where demon bindings.

Which meant he would have to really work at it to break them. If he even could. It would also depend on what they where made of and if he had the strength to muscle the cuffs themselves apart.

He got to his knees and glanced around – he was in a bare room that had one door. He was entrapped in a devil's trap that spanned a good portion of the floor. He cursed colorfully at himself for letting someone – or something – get the jump on him.

Just as he was pondering how he would escape this one, the door swung open. Sam glanced up. It took him a moment but he eventually recognized the now-cold eyes of an old hunting buddy of his dads.

The pure hatred he saw in those eyes cut off all hope of these guys letting him go. Or even reasoning with them.

"Your daddy would be disgusted with you, boy." The man, Nathan, spat. The two others followed him into the room silently. One Sam recognized – he'd met him once – but the other was new.

"Now Nathan, that's no longer Sam in there. Remember?" Oh he was so screwed. Sam didn't bother to answer them, or respond to their words. "He's gone too far - and for that he will pay. Nobody disrespects John Winchester like this. I mean, possessing and anchoring to his kid!"

Sam didn't bother to correct the guy – if they wanted to think he was possessed and that the demon had anchored itself to him, who was he to burst their bubble? Besides, if they knew the truth then he's be double screwed.

"Then let's get to work." The third guy said. Sam didn't recognize him.

And then the torture began.

First came the holy water. They had very sophisticated super soakers loaded with the stuff, and they took turns open firing on him. He wondered where they managed to get so much of the stuff as he curled into a ball as the stuff burnt his skin. Oh, right, if you knew the right incantation you could make it yourself out of tap water.

It wasn't near as bad as it could be, as it would be for any full demon, but damn it still hurt. Burnt. Especially when it got in his eyes, or mouth. It was like getting a facefull of scalding water.

They tired with the holy water, eventually, when it became clear it wouldn't do too much else. They disappeared for a while, taking the super soakers with them, and returned with salt. Handfuls of salt that was thrown at him. His face was the main target, and more than once they got lucky and managed to get it in his eyes or mouth.

But it wasn't as effective as the holy water and they tired of it even quicker. They seemed disappointed. Sam sure wasn't as he shook the stuff out of his hair and clothes the best he could.

They retreated for a while and left him to his own devices. At some point a light turned on and Sam frowned at it, wondering what it was. Didn't take long to figure out that it was a heat lamp. Twenty minutes and an increase of 30 degrees later he was dry. Parched. Another ten minutes and his skin was feeling crispy and he was sweating.

He passed out from the heat. When he woke up again he was strapped to a metal table. They stood around him in a circle, knives in hand. There where no words exchanged as they began to cut him. Small cuts, littered everywhere, stinging and burning. The kinves had to have been dipped in holy water or salt.

They ended the session and poured holy water on the wounds. Rubbed salt in them after, too. When they came back they burned him with a hot poker and used a cattle prod of some sort to send his body dancing as they touched it to the table.

He lost track of time and, after awhile, he stopped reacting to their taunts and tortures. They disappeared for a while and returned with a bunch of tubing and a long pole. He watched with deadened eyes as they hung a bag on the pole and sorted the tubes.

Eventually they pulled out a few needles and Sam closed his eyes as they where inserted in each arm and each leg. It wasn't long before they started to burn and he opened his eyes to see the guys watching him. He shifted a bit as the burn spread. And spread.

But he clenched his teeth and ignored it, for the most part.

When that didn't give them what they wanted, they pulled out the other tube. It was thicker, and it didn't look like an IV line. When one of the men positioned himself at Sam's head and took a firm hold of it, Sam realized what the tube was. He put up a weak, half-hearted struggle but eventually surrendered to the inevitable as the one guy shoved it up his nose.

After his insides where flooded with holy and salted water, Sam allowed himself to drift into a daze where he was able to escape the pain raking through his body. Nothing could touch him there – not the physical pain, not the mental anguish. He didn't have to deal with anything at all.

The next time he regained conciousness he was no longer attached to the table. He was back on the floor, wrists manacled. Everything was quiet. His body was numb. Or maybe he was just still disconnected with it. Either way, he didn't feel anything and for that he supposed he was grateful.

He drifted off because there was nothing else to do, snapping back to reality when his entire body seized and knocked him out again. Some time later he woke up in a strange daze and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he eyed a figure in the far corner.

A part of him thought he should know this figure. It was familiar. But he couldn't wrap his brain around it even as it stepped closer. It squatted down in front of him and reached out. Sam shrunk back, weakly, and the figure withdrew.

"You don't have much time." It spoke. The voice was also familiar. His body seized again and the figure disappeared.

Only to be replaced with the three men from before. Sam instantly closed his eyes and was once again in that place where pain couldn't reach.

TBC


	4. Chapter 3

Where to Run

**Chapter Three**

For a long time nothing mattered. The pain was all he could feel when he was conscious. It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced. It drove him to the brink of madness and back again. There was no escape other than the brief moments he was able to retreat to the back corner of his mind.

Instinct eventually took over and soon found a weak point in the trap. The hunters had grown careless. Pushing against it with all his might he managed to break through. Taking in deep heaving breaths he managed to stagger to his feet and run.

Out the door. Up the stairs. Through the hallway. Past the stunned faces of his captors. Out the front door, down steps, and across the wet grass. The first thing he saw was the corn field and he bolted in that direction. The tall stalks could be used as cover.

But before he could get there he heard a shout, a bang, and then a flare of pain in his side that almost dropped him to his knees. There was a strange painful tug and he was suddenly down. Another flare of pain at his other side. Shouting. He staggered up and tried to walk, but the tug turned into firey pain and he couldn't.

So they hadn't gotten careless. It was all a set up. They wanted him to run for it. He went down like a rock, and stayed down. Probably just like they planned. He heard footsteps on the grass and more shouting. It sounded almost joyful. He felt his body seize like it had many times before and he waited for the hunters to catch up to him.

He was so finished.

But then there was another bang, a scream of pain, and then more footsteps. Two shadows whisked by him, coming from the corn field. His head thumped weakly in the dirt as his body stilled. A third shadow towered over him. And suddenly it stepped over him and didn't move. Eventually he was able to move his head to see what was next to him.

It was a boot. Inches from his bound hands. Sam's eyes drifted up the boot to the leg, and then up to the… whoever it was, faced away from him. You get the picture. Finally he managed to see the person's face and he flinched.

"Now I'm hallucinating." He croaked to himself.

"You're not hallucinating, Sammy, though I wish to God you where." Had he managed to say that out loud? That voice that answered, it was so familiar... Sam let his head drop back into the dirt. "Nobody hunts or hurts my baby brother." He didn't know how long it took, but eventually the gunshots and screaming stopped.

Above him, Dean pivoted and almost stumbled – at some point Sam had grabbed onto his jeans without realizing it. Dean shook his fingers loose and Sam opened his eyes just as Dean crouched down next to him. Sam didn't have the energy to move away or flinch, even though he felt his body tremble as if it wanted to, as Dean reached out to gently touch his cheek.

"You're a mess." Sam huffed a bit.

"He alive?" A gruff voice asked from behind. Sam flinched hard this time. "Guess so. Well shit." Suddenly the owner of the familiar voice was standing just behind Dean and Sam recognized Bobby.

Before anything else could happen Sam felt his body seize and his head flew back. "Shit!" He heard someone swear and when he came to again, there where hands. Holding him down on his side. He struggled weakly in them.

"He needs to be cleaned." Another voice said as the hands let him go. Except for Dean's. They stayed. Sam felt a shiver run up and down his spine. "From what I've seen in the basement, they've doused him in salt and holy water. There where also needles and tubes. What do you humans call them…"

"IV lines?" Dean asked. There was an affirmative grunt. "Anything else?"

"Just this." There was some cursing and Sam squinted his eyes to see Castiel – and there was that shiver again – holding a thick tube.

"Salt and holy water?" Bobby finally asked. Sam groaned – they where being too loud. "He's…?"

"I've seen it before. He is just about half demon. If he just…." The voices faded a bit and then suddenly Sam felt himself moving. He squirmed in protest.

"Easy Sasquatch." Dean's voice was in his ear. "Just me and Bobby." Sam felt his arms, which had been freed at some point, swing over their heads and hands cupped under each knee. "All right, Cas? Did you find a tub or shower?"

"Upstairs. First door to the left." It felt like he was floating as they carried him and he could barely keep track of what was going on, or what they where saying. Eventually he just closed his eyes. Only to snap them back open when he felt hands pulling at the tatters of his clothing.

"No!" He squirmed weakly.

"It's okay Sammy, it's just us." Suddenly he was on the floor, his head up and upper back resting on something. The hands continued to pull at his clothing, then they reached around his back and he let out a whimper.

"We have to get these spikes out." It was Bobby. Sam held still as the hands worked. He could see Dean's worried face hovering above him. "All set." There was a clatter and Sam twisted a bit to see a pair of ugly looking arrows on the other side of the bathroom.

"Okay Sammy, I'm going to put you in the tub now. We'll be using the showerhead to rinse you off. Hopefully that'll make you feel better." Sam grunted.

"Don't bother," He tried to say. "I'm a freak, not worth it." Dean frowned above him and lifted him up. "Let me die."

"Sammy, I don't understand what you're saying. You're just garbling here pal. Hold on." He was palced in the tub and his body seized again. When he was aware again, he felt warm water running over his body.

"Let me die." He tried to say again. This time it seemed like Dean understood – he frowned.

"Not happening." He said determinedly. "I'm going to spray your face off now – close your eyes." Sam did so and held his breath as the water hit his face. It stung, but soon it was gone. "You're a mess."

"Not worth it."

"Don't say that." He was shifted and the water sprayed his back. "Bobby has the med kit ready and Cas went to have a look around. You're going to be fine." Sam shook his head weakly. "Yes you will be." Sam sighed and just let Dean do whatever he wanted.

Eventually the water shut off and he was being lifted again. He was placed on a soft surface and then Bobby was there. "He looks like hell. Come on, let's get him patched up."

Sam felt the hands poke and prod him for a while, then he felt various wounds rubbed and stitched. He didn't have the energy to protest, and didn't offer any resistance when the hands dressed him in loose pants and a tee shirt. He was settled onto a bed and he sighed a bit.

With Dean settled in a chair next to him, talking to him softy, he left himself fade.

TBC


	5. Chapter 4

Where to Run

**Chapter Four**

Sam woke up, nestled in a bunch of blankets, and for the first time in a long time he could sense that he was alone in the room. Usually when he woke up there was someone there with him – Bobby or Dean. He sat up in the bed, pushing the blankets away and shivering a bit at the cool temperature.

He could hear movement from outside the room so he got to his feet and made his way to the door. His legs shook with each step and he felt a little dizzy, but he put a hand on the wall and managed to make it out into the hallway. His body protested and he told it to shut up.

He made his way down the stairs without tripping – a miracle unto itself – and followed the noises through another hallway and into a kitchen. Bobby was at the counter, fiddling with a toaster. A burnt piece of toast lay a few inches away and Sam realized that the dull 'thunk' he'd heard was more than likely Bobby hitting the toaster.

"Hitting it won't solve anything." He told the older hunter, voice raspy and throat sore. Bobby jumped and whirled around, a carving knife in his hand.

"Dammit Sam, don't do that!" Sam blinked, leaning on the doorway. "You shouldn't sneak up on a hunter, ya idjit." The knife lowered.

"I didn't – sneak." Sam wobbled in and sat down hard in a chair. "Slide the little knob on the side from four to two and you should be set for the toast." He suggested. Bobby grumbled, did so, and within minutes had a nicely toasted piece of bread. He repeated the process and Sam blinked as the older hunter slid a plate of toast across the table to him.

"What're you even doing up?" Bobby asked as he poured coffee and sat down across from the younger Winchester.

"I got tired of being tired." Sam shrugged, wincing a bit as the movement pulled at his stitches. He picked at a piece of the toast and started to eat.

"When did it start?" He glanced up at Bobby. "Susceptibility to holy water. Salt. Devil's traps."

"I noticed it a little while after…" After Dean abandoned him, he wanted to say. He couldn't but Bobby seemed to understand. Bobby nodded. "I don't think it's as… severe as…. The traps don't hold me, per say." Sam struggled to say. "It's like walking through… jello? Hard to do, and tingly, but not impossible. And holy water and salt don't…" It was hard to put to words.

All he knew was that it hurt like hell but wasn't near as bad as what he'd seen other demon's go through.

"I ain't gonna lie to you boy, what you're becoming scares the shit out of me." Bobby sighed. "I don't know what it is, and neither does your brother, but…. Sam you know when I said to lose my number?" Sam cringed. "It wasn't me talking." Suddenly a warm hand was covering his own and Sam looked up. "It was a demon – I was possessed."

"Possessed?"

"I, I may have been worried. I may have been thinking it. But I would never cut you out like that. Ever." Sam lowered his gaze. "Dammit, you're like a son to me. Nothing will ever change that." There was a small cough.

"Am I interrupting a chick flick moment?" Sam glanced up in surprise as Dean walked – no, stumbled, in. Bobby withdrew his hand and Sam sighed. He shifted uncomfortably – he didn't know how to act around his older brother now. Dean busied himself with getting some breakfast. "Who wants eggs?"

Sam finished his toast and as Dean cracked some eggs over a skillet. That was when all hell decided to break loose. Sam just about had a heart attack and actually leapt up and over his chair – he didn't know how, he just did – to scurry into a far corner. Bobby jumped and reached for athe carving knife again.

Dean just sighed over the skillet and tilted his head towards Castiel, who was now standing inches behind him. "Cas, we talked about this…?" He sounded partly amused, partly annoyed. But Sam didn't care. His heart raced and he held his breath.

"Right. Personal space." Castiel stepped back and Bobby lowered the weapon. "I apologize." Dean nodded and turned around, eggs finished. Sam continued to stare at Castiel, a strange sense of fear enveloping him and causing him to stand completely still.

"Hey, Sam?" Castiel turned and Sam felt pinned. He reacted on instinct and suddenly everyone was thrown back by an invisible wind. Sam's eyes turned black and he fled. "Sam! Dammit!" He weaved through the hosue until he found a small crawlspace. He managed to fit his lanky frame in and held his breath.

"What the hell was that?" He heard Bobby ask a few minutes later.

"I apologize again. I should have… called?" Castiel was speaking.

"Damn, he can run fast. Where'd he go? What happened, and what was that?" Dean was close by.

"I should not have come. I should have thought…." Castiel again apologized. "Your brother was traumatized, he has reason to flee." There was a thoughtful tone to his voice and Sam crunched himself smaller. "He also has demon blood, so my presence is more than likely to have…"

"He never reacted this way to you before." Dean argued. Sam heard them coming closer.

"Something's changed." Castiel said. "Which is part of why I came. He can be trapped now, and salt and holy water hurt him?"

"Yeah." Bobby replied.

"You saw him when we brought him here." Dean sighed. "What's that have to do anything?" They where right outside his hiding place now.

"I would like to speak to him about this as well." Castiel said, not answering Dean's question. "So if you would get him?"

"What?" Suddenly the door was open and Sam saw three sets of legs. Suddenly Dean was squatting down and peering in at him. Dean hesitated for a minute before speaking. "How the hell did you get in there Sasquatch?" Sam blinked at him. Bobby leaned down and peered in, whistling.

"Now that's something you don't see every day." Bobby laughed. "Get him out of there." But when Dean reached in, Sam scooted back even further in the crevice and hissed. Hissed. At his brother. Dean pulled back.

"Whoa! Dude, did you just…?"

"He is reacting on instinct." Castiel spoke calmly. "He does not mean it, not really." Suddenly Castiel was there and Sam squashed himself to the back of the hidey-hole with a growl. "You two go, I will retrieve him."

"Are you sure…?" Sam wanted to call out to Dean, tell him to not leave him. But Bobby dragged Dean off and Sam was alone. With Castiel. Sam bristled.

"If you bite me I will not be happy." Castiel warned as he, too, squashed himself and crawled into the confined space. A hand reached out and, before Sam could even consider the thought, touched his forehead. Sam let out a squeak and then suddenly he was no longer afraid. "Are you yourself?"

"Cas?" Sam asked. "What happened?" Castiel retreated, pulling himself out of the space. Sam shifted and with help from the angel, managed to get himself out and leaned against the wall shakily. "How did I get in there?"

"You fled." Sam blinked. "We need to go talk with your brother and Bobby. Before what I did wears off."

"What did you do?" But Castiel was already walking away, and Sam followed with a frown. Dean and Bobby where in the kitchen, eating the eggs Dean had made. Dean glanced at him curiously and Sam shrugged. He flopped into the empty chair with a sigh.

"I have news." Castiel finally said. "I do believe you will like it."

TBC


	6. Chapter 5

Where to Run

**Chapter Five**

Sam watched Castiel, patiently. Dean waved him to start talking, shoving egg into his mouth at the same time. "We have all been summoned." Castiel said in a breathy tone, eyes wider than usual. "We have been in meeting since I last saw you."

"We?" Dean asked.

"Myself, Raphael, Zecheriah. Michael. The Archangels, Angels…. All of those still in His grace. And let me tell you, tensions where high. Zecheriah was very angry with me." That partly explained Castiel's good mood, Sam thought. Not to mention the hint of exhaustion. Family reunions where a bitch.

"Good. I don't like him. Feel bad for you though." Dean said as Castiel gave him a look.

"There are fewer of us left than I thought." He said sadly. "But we where summoned." Dean gave him a 'yeah-so-what-stop-repeating-yourself' look. "I was right – God still lives."

"God summoned you?" Bobby asked, incredulously. Sam felt a little shudder ripple through him. Castiel shook his head in response.

"No – but the next best thing did. Those who govern us, who have risen through the ranks. Their power is just below that of God himself." Sam felt uneasy now as Castiel sighed almost happily. "That we where summoned proves that God still lives, or they wouldn't have done so."

"So… who?" Dean asked, finished with his breakfast.

"They do not have names." Castiel said. "But they are part of – no, they are the Second Sphere." Bobby's hand slammed down and he gaped in surprise.

"Second Sphere? As in the three spheres of Heaven? The Celestial Hierarchy? I thought that was a myth!" Bobby breathed. Sam couldn't help it – he rolled his eyes. In this line of work you don't not believe. Seriously.

"It is not." Castiel confirmed. Seeing Dean and Sam's blank gazes he sighed. "There are three spheres in which Angel's are classified." He explained. "The top , First, sphere include those who protect God and his Throne: Seraphim, Cherubim, Ophanim. The Second are the Heavenly Governs: Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. Third are the Principalities, Archangels, and Angels." Dean blinked. "All have their own unique power, but the First and Second spheres have the most of it."

"Damn." Dean whistled.

"One of the Dominions summoned us." Castiel repeated. "He was not happy about what was happening."

"I would bet not." Dean said with a snort. "So what did he want, and why are you so…bubbly?" Castiel's gaze snapped to Sam, who flinched.

"He wanted to discuss Samuel. And you, Dean." Castiel paused. "He knows about Michael, Lucifer, and everything that has been going on. He pulled my memories of you two, he seemed very interested in you and your relationship, and he said he knows of a way to prevent Samuel from being used as Lucifer's vessel."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, brightening just a bit. "So we can stop Lucifer?"

"It won't stop him." Castiel said. "In the end, he will find another vessel to use. It will just take him longer because he will have to do what Azazel did and… create one." Sam gulped. "And he must be in a vessel for Michael to defeat him." Dean frowned. "Dominion also said he knows of a way for you to be Michael's vessel without risking leaving you a… what did you call it? Vegetable?"

"How?" Bobby was the first to speak. "And why didn't anyone mention this sooner?"

"Because the knowledge I am about to impart is not known to any except the first and second spheres. It isn't even known to most of the Third spheres." Castiel said. "I can't say much but I can give you a brief explanation while we wait for Dominion to join us."

"He's coming here?" Bobby asked. Sam felt that shudder again and he frowned. Castiel nodded.

"What about Sam? If he reacted that badly to you…" Castiel tilted his head a bit. "What did you do to him, anyway?"

"Dominion will handle Samuel – he won't hurt him. And I merely put a block on his instincts for a short period to allow him to settle and take control back. For a demon, having an Angel appear out of nowhere is akin to humans being surprised by a grizzly bear. I'm guessing that's already starting to wear off?" Sam nodded hesitantly.

"Well damn." Dean sighed.

"What can you tell us?" Sam asked in a shaky voice. "About this… plan."

"Not much. All I know is that it has to do with your demon blood, Sam. And Angel blood. I do believe there is a part where it's combined, but I am not sure. It's an old ritual, hasn't been used in a very long time." Sam grimaced – great, more blood talk. "Dominion will oversee it and I believe the end result is binding me to the two of you as your guide."

"So some sort of binding ritual." Bobby hummed. "And I'm guessing the blood thing is similar to what Yellow Eyes did to Sam as a baby?" Castiel shrugged. For a brief second Sam felt amusement at seeing such a human gesture coming from an Angel. "Never heard of anything like it before, at least not with a combination of Angel and Demon blood."

"What does it do?" Dean asked.

"I believe… In Sam's case the Angel blood negates the demon blood and enhaneces the humanity so he won't be evil. In your case, Dean, it would just be adding Angel blood to make your body stronger to give it a better chance of surviving the possession."

"Well said, Castiel, though it is a bit more involved." Hell once again broke loose.

TBC


	7. Chapter 6

Where to Run

**Chapter Six**

For the second time that day Sam just about had a heart attack, and instinctually tried to flee as the invisible wind pushed everyone away. Only this time he found himself floating limply in surprise near the ceiling and not crammed into a crevice.

"Shit, Sammy!" Dean groaned from where he had been shoved against the counter. "Hey, who the hell are you?" All eyes turned to the being in the doorway and Castiel bowed his head respectfully.

"I apologize for interrupting, Castiel was doing a fine job at explaining things." He said smoothly. "And I apologize for provoking you." He turned to Sam, who was finally beginning to feel his limbs. "My aren't we all tense?" He mused. "I'll take over from here, Castiel." Castiel nodded and, before Dean could demand the angel stay with them, he just disappeared.

"You're Dominion, well – one of them." Bobby coughed in realization. Dominion nodded.

"Could you put Sammy down?" Dean asked. Sam shook himself mid-air. The hair on the back of his neck was still up and he could feel his gut clenching as he watched Dominion.

"First let me speak. If I put him down he may take off." Dean frowned. "The first order of business is you, Dean. I will not beat around the bush. Michael needs a vessel in order to take on Lucifer – and yes, it must be him and they must have vessels. Don't ask me why, it just is how it must be." He tilted his head. "It is unfortunate that Michael has destroyed so many up until now, also unfortunate that the only beings that may know of how to prevent that destruction are so unwilling to tell." Dean shuffled a bit.

"Why are you helping us?" Sam gathered up his courage and asked. His voice came out in a low whisper.

"Only another Angel can kill an Angel. Michael is the only Archangel that has the power to take care of Lucifer. You, Dean, are the only one with the power to contain Michael without being killed yourself or dampening his power."

"Why me?" Dean asked.

"Because of your mother." Sam and Dean blinked in surprise. "She was a fallen." Dead silence. "Like Anna, she did not remember. She never did. But she had our blood in her veins – you are the only born child with angel blood." Dean sat down on a chair, heavily.

"Damn." Bobby said softly.

"There is a ritual we can perform to boost your blood up to 50%." Dominion explained. "With that, you will be able to act as Vessel for Michael but you won't be a slave to him, and you will be yourself once he leaves."

"What about me?" Sam asked quietly as his brother gaped, taking in this information. "How is that Lucifer can…?"

"The highest blood count goes to the first born. Dean is close to 25% whilst you are around 5%. Which brings me to the rest of my news." Dominion turned to Sam, who once again bristled and flinched. Dean seemed to shake himself out of his stupor as Sam squirmed and tried to get away from Dominion, who stalked forward to him until he was mere inches away.

Sam's eyes turned black and Dean flinched.

"You are very powerful." Dominion said. "You are close to 40% demon. Which is why you feel uncomfortable, frightened, around me and Castiel. Also why traps and typical protections work against you." Sam cringed. "Azazel knew what he was doing when he fed you his blood – if he had been allowed to continue with his plans then by now you would be half demon, half human, and you would likely be itching to join Lucifer and say 'yes.' We would not be here…"

"The point?" Dean interrupted.

"Yes. The blood is not anchored to you. It is like a foreign invader – like an illness that the rest of your blood and body is fighting. Which is why you crave more blood and why the powers are not fully under your control. You need to accept the blood and we need to…." Dean blinked in surprise.

"Come again? Accept it? No way in hell – pardon the pun - is Sammy saying yes to Lucifer!" He interrupted.

"That is not what I meant, and please let me finish." Dominion tilted his head. "Sam. You accept that you're different. You use a portion of the power given to you. But you deny who you are and what you can do – you're blocking it way too much and not allowing a successful merging."

"I'm not evil." Sam grimaced.

"Of course you aren't. Power in and of itself is not evil, it's what you do with it." Dominion sighed. "If you accept yourself, embrace your blood and power, and continue using it for good – you're halfway to defeating Lucifer." Sam blinked. "By denying yourself you give him power to get to you, use you. I have a ritual that will bind your blood and complete Azazel's purpose."

"No!"

"You will be half demon in truest form. Physical form. You will be as intended. Lucifer will not be able to use you as a vessel." Sam froze and Dean scowled.

"But I would be…"

"Yes you will have violent urges. And no doubt quite the temper. But I have a solution for that as well."

"Wait." Dean pleaded. "You can't mean turn my brother into a… a…" Sam hung his head. Dominion narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Do you trust him?" Dean and Sam locked gazes and Dean barely had to pause to think. He nodded. "Do you trust yourself?" Another nod. "Then you will not have any problems – Sam will still be your brother, just as you will still be you if you complete your own ritual."

"What solution?" Bobby, who had been silent and contemplative, asked. "You mentioned a solution to possible problems should Sam do this." Dominion nodded.

"A leash, of sorts." Dominion said. "Castiel has agreed to be both of your… Guardian, of sorts. He will supply his blood for Dean's ritual and we do a similar ritual, smaller scale, for Samuel. The Angel blood will enhance Samuel's humanity and will provide Castiel and Dean a means of control should they need it."

Sam, Dean, and Bobby where silent.

"And this would mean i couldn't be used as a vessel?" Sam asked. Dominion nodded. "And Dean would be okay after…?" Another nod.

"Sam, you can't seriously think…"

"Bobby, this may be the only chance we have." Dean spoke. "Lay it all on the table for us."

TBC

Okay, one more chapter after this one for this fic. I DO plan to write up a sequel, though. Don't know when but i do. The next fic i'm going to post is going to be part one of a trilogy. There will be Dark!Sam in that one, but not Evil!Sam. I'm also taking suggestions - i have a few ideas for other stories but i'm always open for more (no promises though!)

THanks to all my reviewers so far, and hope nobody's too confused.


	8. Chapter 7

Where to Run

**Chapter Seven**

Sam felt a ripple of uncertainty run through him. Part of it was the creepy feeling he got every time one of the Angels was around, but there was also a good dose of fear about the upcoming procedure: what if they couldn't contain him? What if the Angel blood didn't work like they thought? What if….

"Sammy, look at me." Sam glanced up at his brother. Dean's eyes shone and he took a shaky breath. His older brother had gone off with Dominion just last week and came back a new man. Literally. The tense lines around his eyes and mouth where gone, he no longer smoked, and he seemed a lot calmer.

The only downside was that he got the creepy feeling around Dean, now, too. He didn't like not feeling safe around his brother.

"All right Samuel, this is going to be unpleasant. You'll need to drink that flask, all of it." Dominion spoke. "Then we wait." Sam nodded. "Once I'm sure you're ready we'll give you Castiel's blood." Sam nodded again and flexed in his bonds.

He was inside a trap. Restrained to an iron table. He had a feeding tube up his nose and down his throat, because apparnelty once the demon blood kicked in and merged with his own he wouldn't want Castiel's blod naywhere near him. They would have to force feed him.

It brought back the dark memories of the hunters that had done the same with holy water and salt, and he fought it pretty hard, but eventually he had just let the Angel do it. He didn't have a choice. This was the only way he would be free of Lucifer's threat.

With his only free hand he accepted the flask of blood and chugged it down without pausing. He tossed the flask aside after what seemed like several minutes – there was more in it than he thought possible – and gasped for breath.

Now it was a waiting game. He could feel the blood churning in his stomach as it digested. After a few minutes Dominion began to chant. It was latin, he thought, but he couldn't make out the words. Probably for the best, because the ritual itself should never be used again.

Dean was watching from the sidelines, brows furrowed a bit now. Sam relaxed against the table and wondered when this was supposed to work. Dominion had said it would hurt – but how much?

His question was answered not ten minutes later as a slow burn began to travel through his body. He squirmed in the restraints. "It's okay Sammy, just accept it." Dean spoke. Sam nodded and tried not to fight the burn as it continued to spread until it covered his entire body.

He blacked out seconds later and when he came to, he was still on the table but was surrounded by the others. The feeding tube was gone from his nose and he blinked. "How do you feel?" Dean was asking.

Sam took mental inventory and other than feeling tired, he was okay. He gave Dean a small smile. "Your eyes are black." Bobby noted. Sam frowned. There was a soft gasp from Bobby and he assumed his eyes turned back to 'normal.'

"I don't feel much different." Sam said a minute later. Dominion nodded, and other than a small flash of unease Sam didn't feel the terror he'd some-what gotten used to when he saw the Angel.

"That's a good sign. It means that everything worked the way it should." Castiel said. "If it hadn't, you wouldn't be lucid right now." Sam frowned. The restraints where removed and he let Dean help him up.

"What now?"

"Now I take my leave of you and go back to keeping an eye on things from above." Dominion said. "Castiel will stay with you. You both need to work on your powers, and I'm going to hazard a guess that you Sam will need to work on your temper." Dean cracked a grin and Sam shot him a 'shut-up' look before he could say anything.

Before anything more could be said, Dominion was gone. Castiel eyed them. Dean and Sam exchanged looks and nodded. They had work to do.

End

Yes, there will be a sequel at some point.

Next story to be posted will be part one of my "Wayward Son" series. It's a lot longer than this one, and i personally think it's a bit better written. Which means you can almost expect at some point i'll go back and re-do this fic to meet a slightly better standard lmao.


End file.
